(photo courtesy of google) My friend Sarah and I (so) often talk about missing quiet. About how we probably stay up too late at night because we’re so hungry for the quiet that’s only there, after all the little human noise boxes are sound asleep and the computer and TV are off. Who am I there? In the quiet moments? I just asked me that this morning because I had a few awake moments in bed before I could hear the bang and crash of fresh morning boys. I don’t know that I’ve lost myself in motherhood, like they say not to do, or if motherhood has stolen me. Or if I am motherhood. And really, is that so bad? Maybe it’s only bad if when given the chance I can’t remember me at all, and even then maybe it’s not my fault. Maybe it’s just because there’s been so little quiet or […]
{Welcome to Just Write. This week, after you link up below, click on over to Momalom and link up there, too! We’re sharing words with 5 for 5 this week! The prompt is “Words” but if you didn’t get that memo, no worries. Your post surely has words in it, so it’ll work just fine. The link to 5 for 5 is at the end of this post.} {WORDS} On Sunday I got back into bed, overwhelmed and exhausted, my down comforter like a life raft. No TV, no book, no iPhone. No words. I was just thinking but not about much. Then I drifted off to sleep. I have no idea how long it’s been since I did something like that. Just calmly ignoring the loud sounds coming from the other rooms, coming in and out of consciousness. Peaceful. It’s been a really long time. It was the next thing on […]
My soul begs for quiet maybe even more than my body begs for rest. A quiet room and mind. No racing thoughts or legs no loud no hustle no no no no no strife no strain just peace just a moment. No, that’s not true. I want moments. Many many moments of quiet, in a row. It would take days and days of quiet moments for the recovering of this heart and mind. This person. I am tight shoulders and held breath, sleep deprivation and overstimulation. I am numb. I am not. I am crying. I am trying. I am not. I am feeling a tinge of pride when my Dad walks in and I’m making brownies with Asher on a very bad day. Look at me go! I found the energy! As if his love for me changes based on what I’m doing or not doing. As if he has a piece of graph paper and […]
When I was a little girl and would stay over with my Grandma and Grandpa, I always had trouble falling asleep. My Grandma Helen would rub my back and ask me what I was thinking about. I’d tell her and then she would say that I needed to clear my mind, to think about nothing. So I would try. I would repeat over and over in my head, don’t think don’t think don’t think…but then I was really busy thinking about not thinking and I’d stay awake longer. For the short seven-ish years I’ve been a mother, the whole being present thing has been one of my greatest struggles, the way I would wonder if I’m doing it well enough. Lately I’ve been thinking that it works in much the same way as trying to think about nothing. The more time I spend scrutinizing myself on whether or not I’m spending enough time […]
“Stories and truth are splints for the soul, and that makes today a sacred gathering.” ~Anne Lamott She has a caramel roll and she’s wearing a white sweatshirt with a lighthouse stitched on it. She sits alone with her newspaper and a sign on the wall above her head that says Dream. She’s absent-minded when the gooey bite falls off her fork on its way to her mouth. I look away to save her from feeling silly. She goes to get a napkin and comes back, sitting down carefully and catching my eye. Good morning! she says and I don’t hear her at first and she says it again loud and clear and then apologizes for how it came out funny the first time. I reassure her and smile wide. Books are open around me, my favorites like C.S. Lewis, Lamott and Donald Miller. It’s been a long time since we sat together […]
People are like moths to a flame; humans to drama. It’s like we’re so otherwise bored by our existence that we just can’t stand to refrain from flocking to the gossip, the gasping stories. Like most teen girls, I was especially fond of drama, in high school. Now, it makes my stomach hurt and then I turn from it toward my life. If you’re not in the Internet/social media/blogging world, you aren’t aware that there’s drama here just like everywhere else and people get to truly know each other or sort of know each other and they talk about all the goings on. Like how ladies in long dresses used to talk on porches over lemonade, except now it’s a broadcast on Twitter and Facebook and blogs. No matter what the gasping topic or its validity, it’s like a gawker slow down in which the focus is suddenly taken from good things, and […]
It hit me right then, Oh. I said to me. One of the reasons I was drinking so much was to be nice to me. Of course now, in recovery, I see I wasn’t being nice to me at all, but then? I wanted to claim my time, give myself the treat of glass after glass that felt like kindness. It hit me when I got an email from a reader who also struggles with her drinking. In it, she told the story of her day, one in which her child had repeatedly physically hurt her. You know, in the ways that a toddler can–a sippy cup to the head, a tantrum slap to the cheek–things we chalk up to irrational little emotions because a kid is a kid and they’re learning and it’s not personal. But as this lovely mother described this difficult day, I could feel exactly what she was saying. […]
How do you do this? I am on week three of four of solo parenting. I’ve hit that wall in which I can still kind of handle it but I can’t handle the waffle getting stuck in the toaster. Right now the teething sleep deprivation is so severe I’m not sure at all ever what I’m doing exactly. Just getting him to school and then him to school and feeding and wiping and trying. Then I want to throw the toaster and I follow that I’m losing it feeling with guilt of course because look… Just LOOK at what I have… They are sooooo… THEM, you know? When I am solo, we all move down the totem pole, so to speak. No time for all of our needs or for the family utopia in my head to even come close to existing and I suppose this […]
(originally shared Jan. 2012) (I thought you might need the reminder. Or maybe you’re a new mom of one or someone who didn’t read this the first time. I hope it helps.) Before Asher and Elsie Jane came along, I was out with some friends and I was venting about a hard day with Miles. I was surrounded by mothers with more than one child and they rolled their eyes and sighed and looked at each other and started laughing. One of them said something to the other like, Do you even remember the last time you ever showered alone? Their reaction hurt a lot, as unintentional as that may have been. I got a message–they had it harder than I did–and in that moment I felt foolish for feeling tired or maybe even for having feelings. Today, just like that day around five years ago, two more kiddos later, I am exceptionally tired. Is it […]
I am a dreamer stuck in a realist’s body and sometimes I’m a realist stuck in a dreamer’s body. It just depends on the day. Either side gets really enormous and frustrates the other side. My dreamer self is lately crushed under the weight of the real life daily grind. My realist self is fine with it, content even, and then the dreamer swims to the surface and begs for adventure while she also knows that adventure is right here, every day. I mean, life is never dull. When I hear of people on Grand Adventures, selling off everything they own and traveling with their family in an RV, or moving to Haiti to help or moving across country or adopting, taking a risk, I come alive inside. The dreamer starts banging on my chest. Then the realist grabs the dreamer’s fists and holds them to stop and shakes her head and says […]
You have lashes that go on and on with those always surprised eyebrows. You have less and less hair than the day you were born which seems a little unfair, a balding little girl. Of course at seven months old today, you do not mind at all.You are otherwise occupied with trying to sit up without falling over and learning how to belly crawl across the hardwoods. You don’t like to do your own thing for long. You mostly fight the exersaucer or walker unless your brothers are hopping and dancing and running around you, very close to entertain you. You love to be held and you grab on like a koala, long arms and legs wrapped tight to waist and neck. Sometimes I just say right out loud, I have a daughter because I will always be surprised by it. Like your eyes with their eyebrows, full of wonder and delight. […]
I don’t very often resolve to do things for the new year. I try to find the resolve every day and fail and triumph and triumph and fail. The time does fly but sometimes I wonder if that’s just because we forget so quickly so it just seems like it when really a lot of the time it’s kind of slow. Either way, there is the illusion of fast and so fast it is. I was writing the numbers on the wipe off calendar in the little squares inside the bigger squares and it felt like I just did this, writing July and then October and now it’s a new year. I am writing those little numbers so often. Almost every time I have to try hard to remember how many days are in the month. The months fly by forgotten and it still says “Get Asher left-handed kid scissors” at the top […]
The boys went to the neighbor’s house to play at the same time that Elsie fell asleep. At a (very rare) time like this I try to decide what I’m going to get done. I start by throwing in a load of laundry and then today, I randomly dusted two rooms. Then I ate a peanut butter and chocolate Christmas tree and packed away a few ornaments. All of this took less than a half an hour and so I sit down expecting time to write. Now I hear Elsie starting to chatter baby chatter from her crib. So I’m typing as fast as I can before the chatter turns to cries. First the garbled adorable chatter, then the fussing, then the crying. I usually show up somewhere in between. Lately I’m living in more acceptance of this stage of parenting. Sure, it helps that Elsie isn’t crying anymore but I don’t think that’s the only […]
This picture is from like two weeks ago. You know, when I should have been focusing on Christmas to-do lists, but was instead just walking around Target aimlessly, not buying anything. Now I’m all stressed and I wish Christmas didn’t have to be that way and sure I do a lot of it to myself by procrastination but it also seems like even if I do some things ahead of time, the lists just keep adding stuff to themselves. (yes, I realize that’s a hugely confusing run-on sentence but I’m too tired to change it.) I wish this season was more like it was on the prairie. You know, with the Ingalls, in the little house. Just candy and a violin and some food to make the whole family overjoyed. No hustle and bustle, just a cozy fire and some singing and tradition. Anyway. I love Christmas. I really do. I especially […]
I don’t say it all here. Sometimes life goes along with you on your way, missing the landmines, and other times it’s like something is pushing you right into one after another all at one time and that’s what has been happening for us…boom boom boom boom…it’s been that way for a while now. There is so much Life on my heart, I just don’t even know what to do. Sometimes I just need to to sit and cry about it all and then remember that it’s okay to say it’s too hard and too much, and then not feel like I’m weaker than the rest. That’s a lie. I’m not weaker than the rest. I just think I am too much of the time. For now all I can do is move through the days that are like quicksand while I do my best not to analyze how I do it all. I am […]
Thousands of thoughts race through my head every day and I’d guess 80% or more have something to do with mothering–what I’m doing, how I’m doing it–critically thinking, judging myself, measuring and sitting certain that I’m coming up short. A lot of those thoughts have been about Miles lately, his difficult adjustment to school and his new way of being as a result. What to do, what not to do, where I’ve gone wrong, where I’m sure to go wrong because I’m only one me and there’s just not enough time to work and work at it. I used to think I’d be able to mother a certain way, imagining all kinds of time to sit and talk and nurture and talk some more. It turns out there’s so very little time for that, at least right now. Ryan is gone this week and my sister brought us homemade chicken noodle soup. So the boys and I, we broke […]
{freely written words phone-thumbed to a friend via email} “Elsie is in the Ergo, sleeping on me. I love this rocking with her breath on my chest. I wish this were all that I had to do today. But I’m watching Miles like a hawk and he’ll be home from school for at least a few days. Ryan just left for another work trip. There was so much stress trying to get ready while juggling. Uncle K is here and last nite I woke up to he and Ryan screaming out. I put together bits and pieces to know it was an emergency. Ryan was saying to call 911 with so much panic. I thought Miles was dead. Of course I did. Because of the accident and how much fear I’ve been living in lately. But Kevin had been on the phone with his girlfriend and she said someone was outside her house […]
We were getting so much support and love through facebook and twitter last night and the whole time I felt weird that I wasn’t saying what happened exactly. Here was Miles, all cut up and head-bonked and not moving his arm and I couldn’t say why because I don’t want to hurt the person that was with him. It was an accident. They were on a four wheeler and I know that’s not okay. I should have said “my kids can never go on the four wheeler even if I know you’ll be so slow and careful.” But I didn’t. I wasn’t there, but I never said don’t ever do that. We all knew in our heart-guts that it wasn’t the safest thing but you want to make the kids happy with a short and slow ride, you know? So here is another lesson in listening to ourselves. They weren’t even moving. They […]
There is a head space I think we strive for. It’s a chance to get the hamster off the wheel or the monkeys out of the trees. To just shut it off and listen to the quiet. The unquiet mind is exhausting. Do you know what I mean? There is a pit of the stomach drop that I think we avoid. It’s the one that comes after trying and trying to get the baby to sleep and then a wail cuts through the silence. Drop. Or when you walk in a room and the people stop talking. Drop. Do you know what I mean? There is a flutter in the soul. It comes with light that refracts and shines off a perfectly still lake. It stares back up and causes that soul space to beam. Like if you could see inside yourself, you would glow for a moment. It is the zap of […]
I’m watching her discover her hand. She’s doing what babies do, she’s trying so hard to keep it in focus. I don’t know what that is or who it belongs to but I want it. Her little fist is clenched so tight and her eyes have the intensity behind them that shouts something like awe mingled with frustration. Her whole body shakes with need. She seems to be willing that hand of hers to do something it just will not do. Maybe she wants it to open. Let go. That thumb of hers has been driving her crazy for weeks the way it hides itself between pointer and index, like she’s playing the old trick, I’ve got your nose! She has never taken a pacifier and she wants her thumb but she just can’t seem to free it. I’m looking at her and I’m thinking me too because as much as I want […]
If I were a box of cereal or a container of spice or a bag of brown sugar in a pantry, I’d be at the end of my shelf life. Expired. It feels like all of my nerve endings are exposed. I’ve got that everything-feels-like-sandpaper-rubbing-at-my-skin feeling. Too. Too much not enough. Not enough sleep, clarity, writing, health, time… A mother’s verse in every song is love-pain. I want all of this that hurts so much. I even want more of it when the day is done and quiet or when the womb is never going to do its stretching work ever again. Even though the quiet is good and more is not an option, I reach for more love-pain. In the dawn I say, it’s too quiet everywhere. Even when all I’ve wanted all day and all night is a buffer from The Loud. Suddenly quiet just doesn’t fit right. Quiet is the […]
Miles with apple trees and apple picker I don’t know how to talk to them about God. I get worried that I should be saying more than I am. I want to tell them all about the way that I’ve come to know He’s there and He loves me and I know they can’t fully understand an invisible Being that made them up and follows them around quite yet or ever. Mystery. I mean, that’s what it sounds like to them. I know because of the confused questions they ask and yet mystery is exactly where He is, in the best possible way. He is story on a breath and inside all quiet things, good or bad all working itself out to matter and mean something. We are all just kids trying to make sense of things. More and more I realize that not knowing things is how we stay open, less […]
You’ve gotta teach ’em to self soothe, you know. You can’t tip-toe around or they’ll never sleep with noise. Babies know how to get you to pick them up–just let her cry. ::: I know which floorboards squawk under pressure. I avoid them. I am up on the balls of my feet, lightly stepping a dance out the door, gently turning the knob to make a silent shut. I so badly want these quiet moments to last, more for her than for me. Minutes later, it’s as if some unknown force with a foot has forgotten the dance and stepped on her. She squawks first, then she screams. A loud train has gone by and shook her from her light and always tummy-disturbed sleep. I rush back in, no longer careful just quick. Her face is beet red and crinkled with pain, her body making little sounds of too much air. I pick […]
My Dad asked about postpartum depression yesterday. He asked when it usually sets in. I couldn’t clear my head to answer the question because I don’t sleep enough to have normal conversations. I don’t know exactly what I said, but what I meant was something like, “as soon as the baby comes out…or anytime after that. Or even while you’re still pregnant.” I don’t know if it’s happening to me. Again. Maybe it is. It’s hard to tell without sleeping much at all. What I do know is that this is hard and that I cry a lot. As much as I don’t want to cry, as much as I just want to constantly feel joy, that’s not my reality. Sometimes I cry because I sing to Elsie when she’s crying and I just can’t hold it back. I’m a horrible singer and I really really mean the words… There you go with […]
My friend Casey has done some extraordinary things for us. She sends messages that make me laugh, talks baby with me over email and coordinates great big surprises in which she asks our friends we’ve come to know through blogging to shower me with all the baby things we didn’t have. I am so grateful. Thank you, Huckleberry and friends. This morning I sent these words to Casey: “It’s funny, the difference a new morning with some sleep on top can make. Elsie slept in 2.5-3 hour increments last night. That’s like…FOREVER. She is a happy baby, actually. We’re doing really really well–knockonwood. I mean, breastfeeding, healing, etc…it’s all going really well. Of course, sleep deprivation adds to the emotion of it all, but even that is okay…just okay. I’ve been working on a post about the emotional side of the newborn life. How I grieve the old life even though I’m NOT at […]
This is a train of thought: I’m a nomad. Or maybe the idea of being one just appeals to me sometimes. It’s like I’ve come with some sort of internal map inside me that needs traveling. So sometimes I just want an RV and my family and miles and miles of road. I want to stop and see friends and meet new people across the country and I want to teach my kids that there’s a great big world out there, you know? We don’t have an RV though and that’s okay, of course. Maybe one day we will. Maybe we’ll be those crazy people that other people whisper about–they are so weird-they just drive around. That would be okay. Today I get to travel a not-so-terribly-long distance to The Big City, where we lived over a year ago now. (I still miss living there, by the way.) I’ll get to see “old” […]
It’s been so long since we could open the windows and leave them that way. It’s been so long with no clear sounds from outside. No birds. No breeze. This stagnant air is suffocating. This Minnesota winter is long and relentless. I want new air in my home, tinged with warmth…oh, how I want it. I want it so much it hurts. I want to go outside without a coat and walk through the trees and put my fingers to new leaves and feel that little prickle of nature’s energy flowing up my arm, making my eyes wider and brighter. I want to feel better. It’s so hard to feel better without spring, without the new air, the new grass, the new leaves. I suppose the human spirit was made to overcome winter. So, either we do or we don’t. Maybe it’s a choice. So I will stare the stagnant air in the […]
She’s a transplant, I thought. Taken out of there, the place where she built a life and then placed here, where spring is hard to come by and everything that was once familiar from her childhood now feels foreign. Her stories are here and there and she is both places, even though where she was is emptied of her. Only her mind’s eye can put her back there. She can’t really be back there though, because she just can’t, for so many reasons and besides, new people are in her old home. They came along to fill the cavity that was left when she was pulled out. You have a lot of stories, I told her. She answered that she wishes some of them weren’t true. I’m sure, I said, and I started to think about how I wish some of mine weren’t true. The difference is that most of hers weren’t of […]
After lunch and before Asher’s nap, and after dinner and before bedtime, we have cleanup time. I’m not one of those you-have-to-clean-as-you-go-throughout-the-day moms. Maybe I’m just too lazy to stay on top of that, so we do it twice a day. It works for us. Today as I was walking through each room before lunch, picking up strewn about clothes and Legos while the boys cleaned up the toy room, I noticed the difference in the sound my feet bring to the hardwood floors. It’s louder than before. I’m heavier. My ever-growing belly (and other areas) weigh more and more by the pregnant day. There was a strange comfort in the sound. thud thud thud.There I am. I’m here. Doing this. I can hear me, I must be here. So often a person can feel kind of invisible, just trapped in their own home and mind. This made me think of a conversation […]
This post is not about Rob Bell or the backlash against him, or even about Ann Voskamp and all of the opinions on her book. Then again, it is. It’s about all of that and so much more…:::::I am covering my ears. My headphones are even making them disappear, lobes and all. I am choosing my favorite station on Pandora and all I hear is melody, blocking out the conversations around me in this place. All the people and the grinding of the beans and the boots on hardwood. It makes me think of the way we do that, burying our heads in the sand, not wanting to hear or see what other people are experiencing, trying not to understand their perspective because we’re just so busy with choosing our own songs, our own opinions, our soap box issues. I grew up around religious people. I guess you could consider me religious but […]
